


My Fault

by Cardgamesonmotorcycles



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardgamesonmotorcycles/pseuds/Cardgamesonmotorcycles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bakura made a mistake. A big mistake. Will he be able to get his love to forgive him? Shounen-ai. Tendershipping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Just don’t think about him,” Marik had said. Well that was easier said than done.  
I’ve spent my entire day thinking about him. Remembering his soft touches, the warm look in his brown eyes, the way our legs tangled together as we kissed. It wasn't even the physical stuff I missed. It was the closeness. Being able to lie there with him millimeters away, gentle breath on my cheek, that was my heaven.  
I sighed and rolled onto my back, staring at my ceiling. This was no good. I’d never be able to sleep if I kept thinking about him. My eyes flickered to my phone, which sat on my bedside table, gleaming invitingly. I considered ringing him for a minute, then scoffed and rolled back over. I didn't see why I had to always be the one to start things.  
I stared at the empty patch of bed next to me, running my hands over the cold sheets. Remembering when he lay there, resting his arm on my bare chest, hair tickling my shoulder as I watched him sleep. A small smile flickered across my face, but soon faded as I remembered why I hadn't heard from him in so long.  
It had been three weeks since I had seen him. Three weeks! I always knew he could hold a grudge, but usually a few sweet whispers and embraces were all he needed to forgive me. Not this time. I had really hurt him.  
I remembered the tears glinting in his deep brown eyes, the pained look on his face as he took one last look at me before walking out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. I always hated it when he cried, and knowing I was the cause made me feel like scum. I’d never deserved him, his friends had made it clear, and it had taken me this long to realize they were right. Maybe I should just leave him alone? He’d be better off without me.  
Then why does my heart hurt? Each day without him I lose the will to live a bit more. I stopped eating properly about three days ago, I just nibble on toast and drink copious amounts of coffee. I haven’t had the energy to leave the apartment lately and none of my clothes are clean. I’d never let him teach me how to use the washing machine.  
I groaned again and rolled out of bed, feel colliding with the cold floor. I held my head in my hands and allowed myself a long, shaky sigh. The closest I ever came to crying. I wasn’t like him, he wore his emotions on his sleeve, he was easy to read. My feelings stayed deep inside, I barely had any. I was impossible to figure out, I remember that used to annoy him. He could never work me out, as much as he might want to.  
I heaved myself off the bed, walking through the dark hallways to the bathroom. It had been nearly a week since I’d had a shower, and even I need to wash sometimes. The warm water falling over my body refreshed me more than a week in bed could, and as I stood under the steaming hot jet I began to feel slightly better. I figured I might venture out, maybe just to the shops. I needed to get a good meal and there was barely any food in the apartment, shopping had always been his job.  
I sighed again. Lots of things had been his job, what had I ever really done? I’d occasionally filled the dishwasher, I’d gone shopping with him, but I just tended to follow him and scowl at children. I never actually did anything to help. That could be one reason he was angry with me. Although I knew that was easier to forgive than the real reason. The reason he hates me. The reason I hate me.  
I punched the slippery tile wall of the shower, cursing myself for doing something so stupid. At first I’d blamed Marik and Melvin. They’d dragged me out, got me drunk, left me with her. I told him it was their fault. I think that annoyed him more than what I’d done. I could never take the blame for anything, it was always someone else, some external force.  
Not this time, this time I knew it was my fault. But it was too late now. If only I’d told him earlier. Then maybe he could forgive me.  
I chuckled quietly to myself as I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist. How could he forgive me after what I did? it was unforgivable. I growled as I searched my floor for some remotely clean clothes, pulling on the t-shirt so angrily it tore. I ripped it off and threw it across the room. I quickly found another and pulled it on, more gently this time. I slammed the apartment door behind me, leaving it unlocked. Just in case he came back.  
The walk to the shop was as depressing as I’d expected. Everywhere I looked there were happy couples walking in the sun, holding hands, hugging on benches. My scowl increased as I passed each group, people actively avoided me. I was used to that. The shop was the same as always, and as I walked around I realized I had no idea where anything was. I walked up and down each aisle at least five times until I found the steak, I loaded my basket and was walking to the till when something on one of the shelves caught my eye. A small reddish box. I felt my scowl falter and I picked up the box gently. Peach tea bags. His favorite. I remembered when he first moved in with me, I’d snuck up behind him as he enjoyed his morning cup of tea. Hugging him round his slender middle. Asked him what he was drinking. I told him it suited him, because peaches were small and fuzzy like him. He’d giggled at that, and blushed. God I missed his blush.  
I shook my head angrily and dumped the tea bags back on the shelf, allowing my scowl to replace the almost tender expression that had been on my face. I stalked to the tills, banging the basket down, startling the young cashier who gulped and began scanning my shopping. I paid, something I wasn't used to. Nodded at her and left the shop with two heavy bags.  
The walk home was looking to be as uneventful as the walk there, until I saw a familiar head of tri-coloured hair coming my way through the crowds. I sighed. Yami. Luckily for me he seemed to be in a hurry and simply gave me a cold, stiff nod before sweeping past me. Going to meet his runt Yugi by no chance. I growled at the accusatory look in his eyes, the sense of disappointment in his crimson orbs. No doubt Yugi told him everything about what had happened. No wonder he looked so disgusted.  
I climbed the stairs to the apartment, pushing the door open, not expecting to see anyone. Just because I left the door unlocked didn't mean he was going to come back. Still, I checked every room before sighing and returning to the kitchen to unpack the food.  
My stomach rumbled unhappily and I ripped a steak from it’s packaging, throwing it into a frying pan where it sizzled. It was nearly done and I got out a plate to put it on when my phone rang. I growled again, annoyed at being interrupted. Then ran to my room to grab it, leaving the steak on the ring. Unknown number.  
“Hello?”  
“Bakura?”  
“Yes, who is this?”  
“It’s me. Listen, can we meet up? We need to talk.” The voice was cold, emotionless, nothing like it’s usual cheery tone.  
“Of course, where, when?”  
“The coffee bean, at seven tonight?”  
“Yeah okay, I guess I’ll see you there.”  
“Yeah, see you later.”  
The dial tone cut in and I stared at my phone in shock. He wanted to see me. Tonight. A strange smell made me snap my head towards the kitchen. The bloody steak! I ran into the kitchen where thick black smoke was coming out of the pan, the steak a blackened, burnt mess. I dumped the pan in the sink, running cold water over it.  
Guess I better make another steak then.  
And I need to find something to wear tonight. I sighed, nervousness bubbling in my stomach. I had to get this right. It could be my only chance to get him back.


	2. Chapter 2

I pulled open the door to the coffee place and strolled inside. Despite my cool and collected image, I’m nervous. My nails are digging into the palms of my hands and my jaw is clenched.  
The cafe is mostly empty, a tired old man in a battered fedora sits in a corner nursing a mug and muttering to himself. One of the torn red leather stools is occupied by a teenager with a livid black eye, who seems to be deep in conversation with the young waitress.  
Nobody looks up as I saunter to a booth in a shady corner and sit down, facing the door with cold, unfeeling eyes. It feels like I've been sitting here forever, but its actually only a couple of minutes til the waitress remembers what she’s paid for and slouches over to the table, pen and pad in her red manicured hands.  
“What can I get you hon?” She asks, lazily popping her gum.  
“Coffee. Black.” The waitress nodded.  
“Coming right up.” She gave me a small smile, despite my unfriendly demeanor and walked back behind the counter, scuffed black heels clacking loudly on the sticky wood-effect lino flooring. Mere seconds later she returned with a stained white mug and a glass pot of strong coffee. She poured the drink haphazardly, spilling some on the already grubby table. She turned to leave with the pot of coffee in her hand when my hand shot out and grabbed her arm. She whirled around in surprise and gave a pathetic squeak.  
“Leave the pot.” I commanded, gripping her arm tighter for emphasis.  
“Sure thing hon.” She said, but her red lipstick smile looked false and I could sense the fear in her eyes. She lowered the pot back onto the table and I couldn't help but smile as I noticed her hands trembling. She quickly returned to her seat behind the counter, all previous laziness gone. She immediately resumed her gossiping with the battered customer. About me no doubt.  
I growled low in my throat and glared as they both looked over, reaching into my pocket to remove a box of cigarettes and a shiny metal lighter. I placed the slim white tube between my lips, ignited the lighter and lit up. The waitress glanced nervously over at me, but didn’t say anything to stop me. I smirked as I closed my eyes. Smoking always calms me.  
“You’re not allowed to smoke in here.” A quiet voice tore me from my peace and my crimson eyes snapped open. My eyes surveyed the small form who sat opposite me. Thick white hair, less wild than my own, pale skin, big brown eyes. Ryou.  
I shrugged. “Nobody stopped me.”  
Ryou sighed then opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again as the waitress popped up to take his order.  
“What can I get you sweetie?” Her voice was sickly sweet and I instinctively growled protectively. I smirked as her smile disappeared.  
Ryou shot me one of his pathetic excuses for a glare and smiled up at the waitress. He always was more of a people person than me.  
“Peach tea please.”  
I felt my heart jerk as I remembered seeing the box of teabags in the supermarket. So our time apart hadn't changed him, I had to admit I was relieved.  
“Pot or mug?” The waitress asked, shooting me a dark look which I returned with another steely glare.  
“Pot please.” Ryou gave the waitress another dazzling smile, no doubt in apology for my behaviour.  
“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.” The waitress clacked away, leaving an awkward silence to settle between us that lasted until she returned with a pot of tea and another chipped mug.  
“Thanks.” Ryou smiled, but his eyes never left mine.  
The silence seemed to stretch on for eternity, with neither of us wanting to break it. Ryou just studied my face for a few moments before sighing quietly and pouring his tea. The familiar smell of peaches hit my nose and I suddenly wanted to tell him everything. Tell him how much I’d missed him, how lonely I’d been, how guilty I was. I quickly lifted my mug, draining the rest of my piss poor excuse for coffee. I quickly refilled my mug with the black liquid and took another mouthful, wincing at the strong taste. Ryou just sat and watched me. His calm appearance was intact, while mine was cracking.  
Ten minuted later and still neither of us had spoken. My hands were beginning to shake and I felt sick. I watched as he reached for his mug of tea, before reaching out to take his hand. He jerked away from my touch and it felt like I had been punched in the gut. He lowered his eyes, drinking his tea. I was beginning to get angry, what was the point in meeting up if he just sat there and drank his tea? Still, it offered an opportunity to watch him, something I always relished. I watched how he smelt his tea before drinking it, eyes closing in pleasure as he swallowed. God I've missed him.  
“I missed you.”  
His head jerked up, looking startled at first, then relaxing into a sort of sorrowful smile.  
“I missed you too.”  
I gave a dark chuckle at this. Ryou’s eyebrow raised in response but he didn't say anything, just continued sipping at his god damn tea.  
I was refilling my mug for the sixth time when I decided to swallow my pride.  
“I’m sorry Ryou.”  
“I know.”  
“I love you.” A flicker of what could have been pain flitted across Ryou’s face at this, but he just took another sip of tea and replied.  
“I know.”  
I felt the hurt on my face before Ryou saw it. It was the first time I’d told him I loved him and he hadn't said the same back. It hurt.  
He sighed, lowering his mug and looking at me across the table.  
“I’m sorry Kura,” He shook his head, “Bakura. I just.. can’t forgive you.”  
My heart caught in my throat at the use of my nickname but then shattered as he hastily corrected himself. I nodded dejectedly, disgusted to feel tears welling up in my eyes. I reached into my pocket, removed a handful of coins and dumped them on the table as payment for the coffee. Ryou didn’t respond as I stood to leave and I felt a flicker of rage run up my spine at his passive behavior. The waitress let out another squeak as my fist slammed into the table in front of Ryou, who simply watched as his tea slopped out of his mug and ran along the table to drip slowly onto the floor. Ryou’s calm, unaffected face was the last straw and I strode out of the cafe without another word, slamming the door hard behind me, tears already trailing down my cheeks.  
“I love you.” I whispered, though there was no-one there to hear it, just the sound of the wind whistling and the dull, insistent thud of my heart. Beating for him. For Ryou.


	3. Chapter 3

I don’t think I've ever felt so worthless. I keep remembering details, tiny things that play round and round in my head in a continuous loop like some kind of sick torture. The way she leaned over me the next morning with a lecherous look in her eyes. The tears that slowly built until they trickled down his cheeks to dampen his t shirt. The photo of us at the beach, smashing to tiny pieces against the wall next to my head. How he curled into a sobbing ball on the ground. How I tried to comfort him and he sent me away. How he told me he hated me. How I told him I hated me too. Sleeping on the couch, hearing him cry quietly all night long. The dead look in his beautiful brown eyes as he told me to leave and not come back. The disappointment that flashed across his face as I nodded and quietly left, leaving him to cry alone.  
I sighed and continued my walk through the dark streets of Domino. I had done this every night since the incident, to clear my head and to think. It rarely worked and I often returned home feeling more numb than before, eyes filled with angry tears and hands shaking. I turned a corner into a street lit by old fashioned street lamps and unoccupied except the occasional abandoned bicycle and a lost looking cat. I had entered the artistic part of town, filled with quirky craft stores and libraries that housed a million dusty, leather bound books that nobody wanted to read. The unusual, rarely visited shops were divided by a selection of cafes with fancy french names and dimly lit interiors, trying to be something more than their chipped paintwork and ripped seating showed. I shivered in the cold winter air and pulled my black collar tighter around my neck, trying to keep warm as I stalked down the cobbled street. The lights of one cafe, the moonlight rose, shone out into the dark street, showing couples drinking coffee and feeding each other cake in amongst the fake french decor and vases of roses. The sight made the hollow in my stomach grow and I suddenly longed for Ryou. I scowled and looked away, faking indifference, but the empty tugging of my heart told me otherwise. I resumed my walk down the street, looking for a less sickening cafe in which to get a coffee before I turned around and headed home. I passed several deserted looking shops, one with broken windows and vandalized shutters. Finally, at the end of the long and rather depressing street I found a simple looking coffee shop called le chat noir, I rolled my eyes at the stupid French name, but pushed the plain glass door open anyway and stepped inside. A bored looking man in black pants and a white shirt lounged behind the bar reading a novel, he looked up and smiled as I entered, telling me to take a seat wherever and he’d be over in a minute to take my order. I nodded my thanks and headed to a seat in the far corner, where I was hidden from sight by the bar but had a good view of the door. The cafe was small but comfortable, with exposed red brickwork and vintage prints of Paris and London hanging on the walls. The furniture was mismatched, some large leather armchairs, some velvet covered stools, some carved wooden chairs. The tables were small and round, covered in plain black tablecloths. Behind the large dark wood bar there were shiny bronze coffee makers and shelves held glasses and mugs in a variety of sizes and shapes.  
I couldn't help but smile slightly as I looked around, Ryou would love it. I made a reminder to bring him sometime, if he ever forgave me that is. My smile faded and was replaced by a scowl.  
“Evening, the usual is it?” The waiter asked, giving me a friendly smile.  
I blinked up at him in confusion for a minute, “What?” I asked, brow furrowing.  
The waiter looked at me for a moment then his eyes opened wide in shock and he covered his mouth with his hand.  
“Oh I’m so sorry Sir, you look just like one of our regulars.” He apologized, blushing slightly as he realized his mistake. “What can I get you?”  
“Coffee. Black.”  
“Yep, I’ll just get that for you now. Anything else?”  
I shook my head and he smiled and walked off, not deterred by my rude attitude.  
I sat at the table, drawing circles in the wood with my fingertip, musing over what the waiter had just said. I looked just like one of his regulars. I wondered who my look alike was, there weren't many white haired people in Japan. In fact, Ryou was the only other white haired person I had ever met. My head snapped up just as the waiter set my coffee down.   
“Thanks.” I said, then, as an afterthought, “The regular who looks like me, you don’t happen to know his name do you?”  
The waiter looked puzzled, “yeah, he’s called Ryou, he comes in most nights. Always orders the same thing.”  
“Peach tea.” I muttered and the waiters eyebrows rose.  
“Yeah. Are you two friends or something?”  
“Or something.” I replied, lifting the mug of coffee to my face and breathing in the steam.  
The waiter nodded, sensing he had outstayed his welcome, and with one last smile turned and headed back to the bar and his novel.  
A wicked grin spread across my face as I drank my coffee, I was quickly formulating a plan. A plan to get Ryou back. I drained my mug, paid the waiter and strode out into the night, black coat flapping around my ankles in the breeze.


	4. Chapter 4

I had waited long enough. Tonight was the night to put my plan into action. A quick glance to the clock told me it was about time I set off, after all, it would be rude to be late. I swung my black trench coat on and strode purposefully out of the house, shutting the door behind me with a crash that reverberated through the apartment.  
I stalked down the near-empty streets, glaring at anyone with the tenacity to get in my way or give me an odd look. My ice-cold exterior facade was just masking the fact that I was afraid. My plan could go so badly wrong. He might not even turn up. If he did he could be with someone else, we were technically over, in his eyes at least, so it wasn't too ridiculous an idea. I don’t know how I’d cope if he wasn't alone, especially if he was with another man. He was mine! Nobody else could have him. My mouth twitched in imagined anger and my left hand closed around the handle of the flick-knife that sat in my left pocket. Just in case.  
My fast pace brought me to my destination sooner than expected. Windows spilling soft light onto the dark street, smell of coffee drifting out of the door, which was slightly ajar. I took a moment to allow my crimson eyes to dart around the cafe’s interior through the window. Seeing nobody but the waist coated waiter, reading the same dog-eared novel, I pushed the door open with a tinkle of the bell and, with a cool nod in his direction, took a seat at the dimly lit corner table. I lounged back in my seat, twiddling the knife in my pocket lazily with one hand as the other drummed restlessly on the table. I was prepared for a long wait.  
“Evening.” The waiter smiled down at me. No mistaken identity this time. “What can I get you?”  
“Black coffee.” I replied bluntly.  
“Sure thing, that all?”  
I nodded and he smiled once more before walking off, completely unaffected by my blatant rudeness.  
I scowled, I had hoped for at least a small flash of worry in his eyes, perhaps even fear. I loved the scared expression I could put on peoples faces. I liked it when people avoided me, it made me feel powerful, in control. Most people around me were like puppets on strings, easily controllable by a simple look or a harsh word. The people who ignored or didn't see my glares were the only people I allowed to become friends.  
Friends. Such a weakness to have.   
I told Marik and Melvin my plan, of course I did. This situation was partly their fault after all. Marik hadn't been so sure, whereas Melvin had straight up called me a ‘baka’ and told me it could only end badly.  
Of course I ignored him. Who would take advice from someone who believes anything can be solved by slitting a few throats? A baka, that’s who.  
Marik was concerned, I could see it in his lavender eyes. He was truly worried for me, he had seen how Ryou’s absence had affected me, was affecting me. Melvin, as usual, took a back seat in the whole business. When I had spent days in bed, curled up and alone, it was Marik who had at least tried to break through to me. He had phoned me again and again, hammered on the door, and, in a particularly stupid and bold move, climbed up the fire escape, smashed a window and broken into my apartment. I could remember the way he looked at me after he found me, lying on my bed in the fetal position, visibly shaking with tear tracks staining my cheeks. I could see the pain in his eyes at seeing me this way, but I could see the guilt too, and that only made me feel worse. It wasn't technically his fault, or Melvin’s. I was truly the only one to blame, and though he tried to shift some of my guilt to him and Melvin, I knew inside that I was the one who drove Ryou away, and that killed me inside.  
The first week without him seemed to pass in a haze. I remember only getting out of bed to use the bathroom, I didn't wash, didn't eat, barely slept. Then Marik had appeared in my room in a shower of broken glass and a flurry of horrified exclamations. I remember Marik had cried too, sat on the edge of my bed with blood trickling down his cheek from a small cut. I remember staring at him blankly, not offering comfort, not offering anything, just watching him as he cried. I remember he told me it was all his fault. He apologized, again and again. I hung my head, the shame and self-pity overwhelming me, allowing the tears to fall, a dry sob choking out of my dry throat. I remember slender bronzed arms around me, gentle shushing noises and being rocked until I fell asleep. Waking up the next day to see him, still awake lying beside me on the bed, watching over me while I slept. He stayed with me for most of the next week, force feeding me food like a baby, making me shower and get dressed, sometimes too physically for my liking. I allowed a small smirk to spread across my face as I remember one day he literally pulled me out of my clothing, turned on the shower and pushed me under it, paying no heed to my objections and seemingly unphased at essentially stripping his friend.  
I was brought out of my memories by the ever-cheerful waiter placing a mug of strong black coffee on the table.  
“There you go Sir, just call me over if you want a refill.”  
“Thanks.” I replied, noticing for the first time the shiny gold name-badge on his waistcoat that read ‘Hirotima.’  
He smiled again and resumed his place behind the counter, returning to his novel, which I could see he had nearly finished.  
I picked up the mug of coffee and took a deep drink, it scalded my mouth and the bitter taste made me wince. Just how I like it. I glanced at one of the clocks on the wall, 7:28. I chuckled quietly, any minute now my plan would begin.  
I had been preparing for this for days. Melvin called it stalking, I called it observation. I came to the cafe every night at around 6, I stood in the alleyway opposite and watched the customers arrive and depart. I’d stay in my alleyway until the cafe shut at 8, watch the waiter lock up and leave, shrugging a scarf around his neck against the winter cold. On the third day of my observations a familiar white haired boy entered the cafe, greeted the waiter with a warm smile that made my heart twinge and sat at a table in front of the large window. He didn't bother to order, the waiter just brought over a pot of tea and a mug, exchanged a few friendly seeming words then went back to the novel he seemed to read every night. Ryou would wait a few minutes for the tea to brew then would pour out a mug, savoring the smell before bringing it to his lips to drink it. After the first mouthful he gave a contented sigh and visibly relaxed backwards into his chair. Peach tea had always relaxed him, removed the stresses of everyday life. For a while, I had done the same. My scowl reached my face again and I glared at my coffee, harsh and dark. The total opposite of Ryou’s tea, which was sweet and light. I scoffed lightly, even our drinking habits were opposite, it was truly a miracle that we had got together at all, we were so different. The tinkle of the bell above the door caused my head to snap up and I let out a light gasp as I saw who it was.  
He looked different, he was thinner and paler, and his soft brown eyes were tired and bloodshot. I shifted closer into the corner, allowing the shadows to envelop me, hoping he wouldn't notice me. He walked up to the counter with a small smile, which grew as the waiter noticed him and placed his paperback onto the polished surface.  
“Hey Ryou, it’s been a while since I've seen you.”  
“Hi Hiro,” I growled softly at the nickname, “yeah, I've just been really busy lately.”  
Hirotima nodded understandingly, then his forehead furrowed, “are you okay?”  
Ryou waved away his concern with a smile, “I’m fine, just tired is all. How’s business?”  
I raised my eyebrow at the blatant change in conversation, any fool could see that Ryou wasn't okay.  
“Quiet, as usual.” He smiled ruefully, “anyway, the usual?”  
“Yes please Hiro.” Ryou looked relieved that Hirotima had accepted the conversation change and had decided not to pry any further.  
“Go grab a seat, I’ll bring it over.”  
“Thanks.” Ryou smiled again and walked over to what I had learnt was his usual table in front of the window, taking a seat that allowed me to view his side profile. I squirmed further into my chair, draining the rest of my coffee and suddenly realizing how badly thought through my plan was. I felt slightly panicky, now he was here I had no idea what to do. I was so lost in thought that I jumped at the reappearance of the waiter at my table, who had apparently just taken Ryou his tea.  
“Sorry,” he smiled at my alarmed look, “refill?”  
I nodded and he took my mug with his ever-present smile, disappearing into what I assumed was the kitchen, leaving just me and Ryou in the cafe.  
I swallowed loudly, the coffee had made my mouth dry and my hands were beginning to sweat. Melvin was right, this was a stupid plan. I felt horribly out of my depth, there were few people who I couldn't get to do my bidding with a whispered threat or a quick flash of my knife. Of course, threatening Ryou would just make things worse, and he knew full well that I would never hurt him. Physically at least.  
“There you go Sir.” Hirotima placed a newly filled mug of coffee before me.  
I nodded and he walked off, to read his novel no doubt. I took a drink of coffee, looking over the rim of the mug only for my crimson eyes to lock with a honey brown pair which soon widened in surprise.  
Shit.


	5. Chapter 5

Time stopped as he stared at me, wide honey brown eyes fixated on mine. I froze with my mug still halfway to my mouth, which had suddenly become dry. Thoughts raced through my mind, my fight or flight response finally kicking in. To stay would be awkward, especially if he chose to ignore me, that would hurt. But leaving would make me look weak. My head was spinning with this whirl of emotion, and I had to break the eye contact, lowering my mug to the table in a flustered, clumsy fashion and staring at the rich brown liquid which trickled down the side of the mug. I was finding it hard to breathe, I could still feel his eyes on me, but I was too terrified to move. I was like a rabbit caught in the headlights. My chest tightened and I had to take a couple of deep breaths to get my heart beating in a normal rhythm again, though my breathing was still shallow and erratic. I took a drink of my coffee, hands shaking as I lifted the mug to my mouth and swallowed, still avoiding Ryou’s eyes. I cursed myself angrily as I realized that Mariku had been right, I was a baka. This cafe was far too out of the way for me to have any real reason to visit it and Ryou knew I wasn't in the habit of going anywhere that involved human interaction. My presence here was far too suspicious for him to simply wave it off as coincidence. His friendly relationship with the waiter worried me too, what if he told Ryou that I’d been mistaken for him? It would be obvious then that I had come here hoping to see him, and, as Marik had said, it was essentially stalking.  
I heard the sound of a chair scraping and my head shot up, eyes narrowed at the sharp noise, hand reaching for my knife. Ryou stood opposite me, teapot and mug in his slender hands, one eyebrow raised at my defensive attitude.  
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, polite as ever.  
I grunted in acknowledgement and he placed his drink on the table, sitting in the chair opposite my own and making himself comfortable. He topped up his mug and I caught the smell of the sweet peach tea that reminded me so much of him. Once he was settled he looked up at me again, mouth twitching into a smile as he noticed I hadn't moved and was watching him cautiously.  
“You can take your hand out of your pocket, I don’t plan to attack you.” He said it so casually that it took me by surprise and a smile spread across my face before I could stop it.  
“Sorry,” I replied, my hand leaving the pocket that held my knife, “force of habit.”  
He nodded, “you still carry that around then?”  
Now it was my turn to roll my eyes, “obviously.”  
Ryou had always hated the fact that I felt the need to carry a knife, especially as he knew full well I was capable of defending myself without the use of weapons. I was surprised he had noticed my hand subtly reaching for it to be honest, although he always was observant.  
He ignored my rudeness in favor of delicately sipping his tea, closing his eyes lightly as he swallowed. I watched his adams apple bob in his pale throat which had been marked with bruises by me so many times but was now flawless and milky.  
“I've never seen you here before.” He remarked conversationally, ignoring the lustful way I was staring at his throat, if he had even noticed. “How did you find this place?”  
“I was wandering round the other day and just ended up here.” I replied shortly, ignoring the concerned look that flashed through his eyes as I mentioned wandering round. Ryou knew I would have normally considered something so aimless a waste of my valuable time.  
He nodded and sipped his drink, clearly comfortable in the silence that had fallen over us. I took a gulp of my coffee and watched him out of the corner of my eye. He looked even more exhausted up close and I was sure he had lost weight. His eyes met mine for a second and then flashed down to his mug as a small blush spread across his cheeks. I allowed a fond smile to spread across my face, he was still beautiful. His white hair hung gently around his face in a less spiky version of my own, soft brown eyes fringed with thick lashes more befitting a girl. His skin was it’s usual white, almost translucent and seemed to glow under the artificial lighting. He was small and fragile, in need of protection.  
“It reminded me of you.” I spoke suddenly, without thinking.  
Ryou glanced up at me, blush fading to be replaced with confusion.  
“What did?” He asked, voice soft and small, like him.  
“This place.” I said, gesturing to the cafe interior. “When I first found it, I mean. I thought that you’d like it.”  
My face turned hot and I studied his features, afraid I’d said something wrong.  
“You were right.” A small smile played on his face and a certain fondness sparkled in his eyes as he looked around, only to die as he turned to face me. I watched as the smile slipped from his face to be replaced with an upset expression I had come to know so well lately.  
“Bakura..” he began, and I could feel an ultimatum coming.  
“Don’t.” I said, reaching across the table to take his hand, causing a small gasp to come from his lips. “Please, don’t.”  
He looked up at me, eyes full of hurt and confusion, though he didn't pull away.  
I stared down at our hands, running the pad of my thumb gently over his pale skin, swallowing back tears.  
“I’m sorry Ry.” I whispered, noticing the small whimper that came from Ryou as I used his nickname. “Please come back.”  
“Bakura..” He said again, this time the hurt was clear in his voice and he tried to pull away from me. I released his hand and he wrapped his arms round himself defensively, something I knew had always provided him with comfort. “This isn't’t fair.”  
I felt the tears I had tried so hard to stop trickle down my cheeks at the pain in his voice, pain I had caused.  
“Ryou, please.” I was practically begging, voice cracking, begging him to look at me, to listen, to come back to me. How ironic, I thought, the one person who could always make me feel better could make me feel so bad. “Please.”  
He looked up at me reluctantly, and his eyes widened as he saw the tears trickling down my face. This was the first time he had ever seen me cry. Hell, this whole thing was the first time I had cried since I was a child.  
“Bakura.” He said again, voice softer now.  
“I miss you so much.” I whispered, almost inaudibly. “I.. I’m sorry Ryou. If I could take it back I would. What I did was horrible. I.. it was disgusting. I’m disgusting.”  
Ryou opened his mouth, anger fluttering on his face.  
“I am. I’m pathetic. I’m worthless. I don’t deserve you to forgive me. I never deserved you in the first place.” The tears flowed thick and fast now as I thought over every cruel thing I had ever done or said to him, every time he had fixed the cracks in our fragile relationship, cracks I had caused. But it seemed no amount of glue could fix this crack, it had shattered us into a million scattered pieces, impossible to fix. I was suddenly angry, I slammed my fist into the table with a rageful cry, sending our mugs to the ground in a shower of broken glass and scalding liquid.  
“Bakura!” Ryou exclaimed, eyes wide, not in fear as I had expected, but in concern.  
I stood up from my chair suddenly, causing it to crash to the ground, Ryou rose from his seat too, coming to stand in front of me, trying to halt my exit.  
“Get out of the way.” I growled, anger blinding me to his hands on my shoulders, the tears slipping from his own eyes. When he didn't move I pushed him roughly to the side and strode through the cafe ignoring the waiters alarmed look and Ryou’s calls of my name. I slammed the door behind me, hearing the glass shake in the frame and stalked down the streets, hand on my knife, needing to destroy, to ruin, to break.  
As I got further away from the cafe my anger began to ebb away, replaced with bitterness and yet more tears which ran down my cold cheeks and dripped onto my coat. An image of Ryou’s scared and concerned expression suddenly floated into my mind and I let out a strangled sob, sinking to the ground of the alley I was walking through.  
My chest heaved with the force of my sobs and my breath came in shaky gulps. My head began to swim unpleasantly and I pulled my legs up close to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and rocking backwards and forwards. I stared into the blackness of the alley, fully aware of how vulnerable I was, and for once not just to attacks. I sat there, a sniffling, self-pitying mess, unable to get Ryou back, unable to do anything right.  
“Bakura!” I heard a voice shout faintly, shortly followed by footsteps nearby. I curled into myself more, trying to blend into the alley, to disappear.  
Of course I hadn't taken my white hair and pale skin into consideration so a moment later I heard a small gasp and running footsteps approaching. I sensed a figure hovering over me but didn't open my eyes or look up, I stayed buried in my knees, blocking out everything around me. I heard a choked sob and the sound of Ryou lowering himself to sit next to me, I could feel his warmth and smell his vanilla shampoo.  
“Bakura.” He whimpered, tears evident in his voice as it cracked. “Look at me.”  
Now it was his turn to beg. I swallowed and slowly raised my head from my knees, eyes meeting his. His beautiful brown eyes were overflowing with tears, rimmed red and full of pain. I reached a hand forward to wipe away his tears as I had done many times before, eyes never leaving his. I kept my hand on his face, feeling his soft skin, sticky with tears.  
“I’m so sorry.” I whispered, my eyes searching his in a last attempt to get him back.  
There was a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of the cold wind whistling through the alley.  
Then it was broken as Ryou let out a loud sob and threw his arms around my neck, clinging on desperately as he cried into my shoulder. It took me a fraction of a second to wrap my arms around him too, gripping his t-shirt tightly. I savored his warmth, his smell, the way he fit perfectly into my arms.  
“I missed you so much.” I whispered into his hair, praying this moment would never end, wishing we could stay this close forever.  
Ryou sniffed and burrowed closer into me, squeaking as I moved a hand to run through his soft hair before sighing contentedly.  
“I missed you too.”


	6. Chapter 6

It hurt. Physically hurt. I could feel a pain in my chest like my heart was being squeezed. I felt my eyes grow watery and slammed the book shut, leaving the characters to do whatever the hell they wanted. I wiped a tear from the cover of the tattered paperback, leaving a damp smear over the couple on the cover. The man was stereotypically attractive, thick black hair that gleamed in the sunset behind him, white shirt slightly see-through and unbuttoned so that his bronzed, muscled torso was clearly visible. The woman, too was beautiful, she had long blonde hair that fell in loose waves around a slim pale face, red lips set in a smile as she gazed up at the man with startling blue eyes surrounded by thick black lashes. Her eyes practically oozed love and adoration, and the mans eyes were no different. He held her in his toned arms, tilting her downward so he could stare into her eyes, as if he were going in for a kiss at the end of a tango.  
It made me feel sick.  
I threw the book away angrily, not caring as it hit the vase on the chest of drawers, sending it tumbling to the ground where it landed with a crack and lay there in three pieces. I sighed and rubbed my eyes wearily, glancing at the clock which read 4:02AM. I groaned and looked around the room despairingly. It was the second week in a row I had been plagued by insomnia, and I was beginning to get desperate for sleep. The book had been just one way to try and pass the time, the familiar story of a damsel in distress saved by a hunky male, of peril and adventure, of love.  
I scowled.  
‘Unending love, a tale of romance, mystery and passion,’ even the tag-line made me want to vomit.  
“Unending love.” I muttered to myself, “yeah right.”  
I rolled my eyes at how cynical I sounded and retrieved the book from its location, sprawled on the floor, surrounded by broken vase, pages creased under the weight of it’s spine.  
As my eyes studied the cover I thought of the times I had read it before, one in particular came to the forefront of my mind, no matter how much I tried to shove it away with the other things I didn't want to remember.  
Early Saturday morning, roughly 8AM, far too early for the other occupant of the house to be awake. I sat at the dining table, mug of peach tea in one hand, worn Mills and Boon paperback in the other, losing myself in the romance of the story. I felt I was there, I was in the majestic ballroom where they first locked eyes, the park in front of the Eiffel Tower, the sun dappled bedroom. I smiled softly as I read, occasionally taking a sip of my tea, allowing myself to get lost in the beauty and simplicity that was love. I was so enthralled with the characters, the vivid descriptions of scenery and of tender touches that I didn't’t hear the figure that was sneaking up behind me until I felt a chin rest lightly on my shoulder and a pair of warm arms circle my shoulders. I was shocked out of my reverie, panicky for a moment as I forgot where I was, but I soon relaxed back into the touch as I heard a content sigh from the man behind me.  
“Morning.” He mumbled sleepily, rubbing his cheek against my hair.  
“Morning.” I responded, receiving a loving nuzzle from his nose against my exposed neck.  
“What are you reading?” He asked softly, one arm leaving my shoulders to reach for the book. I felt myself blush and lowered the book, trying to hide it behind my mug, unsurprisingly, my plan failed and I heard a deep chuckle in my ear, causing shivers to travel up and down my spine.  
“Another Mills and Boon? I swear, you must have read all of them by now.”  
I frowned indignantly and went to protest but was stopped by a pair of warm lips kissing my chin, one hand stroking my hair, the touch was caring and I felt a sudden rush of love towards him.  
“You always were a hopeless romantic Ryou.” He said, spinning me round on the stool to face him, tender smile on his face. I blushed under his gaze as always and looked down, face and neck flushed red. He chuckled again and hooked a finger under my chin, raising my eyes to meet his, one hand fiddling with a strand of my white hair.  
“You’re beautiful when you blush.” he whispered, leaning in close to me to gently kiss the corner of my lips, causing my blush to increase tenfold.  
I remembered that specific morning as clear as crystal, in my mind it had been far more perfect that any of the elaborate romances I read. It had been pure, simple, just me and him.  
I sighed again and rolled over, trying to find a comfortable position where I might be able to finally get some sleep. Another memory of a perfect morning swam into my mind and I groaned as my chance of sleep grew less. This time we had only just begun living together, everything was new and exciting. It had been another early morning, this time a Sunday. I had always woken early on Sundays, so I left him sleeping in our bed and headed to the kitchen to get a drink. Peach tea, as always, it helped me to relax and soothed out any worry about the week ahead. I moved to stand in front of the window, glad of the park opposite our apartment, giving us a view worth looking at. I smiled softly and continued to sip my tea, watching the people outside go about their everyday business, a newspaper delivery boy on a bicycle, an elderly couple hand in hand, and even a small group of girls returning from a night out, glamorous clothing disheveled after a long night and carrying their heels in hand. This time I heard him coming, raising an eyebrow in surprise at how early he was awake, but I didn't divert my eyes from the view. I heard him give a small yawn from behind me before wrapping his arms around my waist and planting a small kiss on the top of my head.  
“What’re you drinking?” He asked, surprising me with the strange question.  
“Peach tea,” I responded, moving one of my hands to intertwine my fingers with his on my waist.  
He buried his nose in my hair and sighed contently.  
“It suits you.”  
I stood there for a moment in utter confusion, blinking and attempting to make sense of his comment.  
“The tea, I mean.” he clarified, just as I was about to ask what he was talking about.  
“How?” I asked, still just as confused as I had been before.  
“Well peaches are small and fuzzy,” Here he nuzzled my hair with his nose, kissing my temple gently, “and so are you.”  
I turned round to face him, red blush settling on my cheeks as I let a girlish giggle escape my mouth. He smiled down at me and I reached up to give him a kiss, thanking him for the cute, albeit unusual, compliment.  
I smiled contentedly at the memory of another perfect morning spent with him, but my smile soon faded as my eyes landed upon the empty half of my bed, pillow smooth and uncreased. I swallowed as I remembered his head resting beside mine, face set in a peaceful smile as he slept. I felt tears rising in my eyes and tried to stop the feelings, the memories of that day from rushing back. But of course, it was of no use.  
I woke up to an empty bed and an empty apartment. I went from room to room looking for him, after all, he had promised to be home from his night out with Marik and Mariku for 2AM. I checked my phone for messages or a missed call, but there was nothing. I spent the morning in a state of anxiety and worry, constantly trying to call him, but his phone was switched off. Mariku answered grumpily,not happy at being awoken and immediately passed me onto Marik, who sounded concerned. He said they had left Bakura outside the club waiting for a taxi and had assumed he had got in the taxi and gone home for the agreed time of 2AM. I thanked him anyway and hung up, sitting on the sofa with a mug of peach tea I felt too sick to drink and a pit of fear in my stomach. I finally heard the sound of keys in the door at gone 11AM and rushed into the hall to greet him. He looked terrible. His hair was more disheveled than usual and he looked horribly hung over. His eyes were bloodshot and had large bags under them. But what I found stranger was that he wasn’t wearing the t-shirt he had been when he left the night before. I ran up to him and hugged him, asking him where he’d been and telling him I was worried. He told me he’d stayed at Mariku’s and my grip tightened imperceptibly, I knew he was lying.  
Strike one.  
He hugged me back and told me he was sorry, running his hands through my hair. I inhaled deeply, searching for his reassuring scent. My nose was met with the smell of alcohol and sweat, which was expected, but also with the unmistakable scent of cheap womens perfume.   
Strike two.  
I immediately pulled back, staring at him with fear and suspicion in my eyes.  
“You smell different.”  
“That’s what clubbing does to people, I really need a shower.” There was laughter in his voice but a flash of fear flickered through his eyes.  
“You smell like woman.” I said, voice wavering.  
“There were lots of girls in the club, it was packed.” He defended himself.  
I nodded, deciding to accept this for now, but to keep alert for other lies.  
“Go take a shower then.” I said, voice colder than I’d intended. “I’ll wash your clothes. They stink.”  
His eyes narrowed slightly at my tone and my unnatural rudeness but he complied with a smile and walked to the bathroom, throwing his clothes into the hall before shutting the door behind him. I picked his clothes up cautiously, carrying them into the kitchen. I opened the door of the washing machine and began to put them in, checking the pockets of his jeans and coat first. There was a lighter in his jeans pocket and I pursed my lips at it, he told me he’d quit smoking. Another lie. There was a small piece of paper in his coat and I placed it into my pocket before turning on the washing machine. I walked into the front room with the piece of paper burning a hole in my pocket. I sat down on the sofa and pulled it out of my pocket with hands that I couldn’t stop from shaking. I unfolded it and my eyes widened in horror, I gagged and had to lift my hand to my mouth to stop myself being sick.  
On plain white paper, folded into four was a note. Written in pretty handwriting- “Last night was really fun, sorry I had to go early, we should do it another time. A xx,” underneath was a mobile number.  
I felt my hands begin to clench around the note, crumpling it into my fist as my knuckles turned white. My stomach heaved again and I had to run to the kitchen, where I was sick into the sink. I wiped my mouth clean numbly and swilled away the sick, walking into the front room and sitting on the sofa as if in a daze, staring blankly at the wall, note still clenched in my hand.  
“Ryou?” The voice from the doorway startled me and my head shot up. Bakura stood in the doorway in a white t-shirt and a pair of grey jeans, his hair hanging round his shoulders in damp strands. “Are you okay?”  
I had no idea how to respond to that, so I ignored him and instead held up the note, hissing “What the hell is this?”  
Bakura’s face paled as he took the note from me and read it, eyes widening in horror as he finished.  
“Ry-“ he began, but I cut him off angrily.  
“I rang Marik when you didn’t come home. You didn’t stay at his at all. You stayed at this.. this, A’s place. Didn’t you?”  
He didn’t respond, but took a step closer to me while I took one back, unable to stand him being near me.  
“Ryou, it’s not what it looks like.” He said, eyes flitting across my face, panic rising in his movements.  
“You come home, smelling like a cheap whore, with no t-shirt, a note in your pocket with a girls number thanking you for last night and it’s not what it looks like? Then tell me Bakura, what does it look like to you?”  
He didn’t answer this, and simply stared at me.  
“You slept with her. Didn’t you?”  
“No I-“  
“DIDN’T YOU?” My voice raised to a hysterical screech that made him recoil in shock.  
His left eye twitched slightly and he nodded stiffly, not looking in my direction.  
“Oh my god..” I muttered, horrified I had been right.  
“Listen Ryou I was really-“  
“If you say you were really drunk I swear to fucking god Bakura.”  
It was the first time I had seen Bakura speechless. He just stared at me, eyes pleading me to forget all about it. Rage had overtaken me and tears began to spill from my eyes.  
“Ryou.” He said gently, walking towards me with his hand outstretched as if to comfort me.  
“Get out.” I spat.  
“What? Ryou..”  
“Get. Out.” I said again, raising my eyes to meet his, satisfied to see the fear and shock in his face. I began walking towards him, taking one step forward for each one he took back.  
“Ryou, I’m sorry! Let’s talk about this, okay? We can work it out!” His voice was desperate and scared.  
“I don’t give a shit Bakura! Get the fuck out!” I shoved him as I screamed this, blinded by tears and anger, though I still heard his gasp of shock and pain as his back collided with the handle of the apartment door. He stared at me for one minute longer, then turned and left through the door.  
Of course he didn’t go for long, he was back by that evening and slept on the sofa without me needing to tell him. I didn’t sleep that night, I just sat in our bed, crying.  
The next day was terrible. We shouted, screamed, threw things, called each other awful names. I eventually had enough and began throwing things into a bag, ignoring Bakura’s pleads with me to stay. I shouldered the bag and left the apartment, slamming the door behind me and not looking back.  
A quiet knock on the door brought me back to reality and I glanced up at the door with wet eyes.  
“Ryou?” A gentle voice asked, laced with concern. “Are you okay? We heard something break.”  
I swallowed and forced myself to put on an okay tone of voice.  
“Yeah I’m fine Yugi, I just dropped something, sorry I woke you up.”  
There was a pause before the voice responded with an uncertain, “Okay, night Ryou.”  
I didn’t reply and listened to the footsteps travel down the corridor to the room Yugi and Yami shared.  
I sighed again and rolled over in bed. It was so kind of Yugi and Yami to take me in, but seeing them together just made me feel so much worse. Seeing the way they adored each other, the loving words they shared and the way the worked together as a team made me want to cry.  
I buried my face into my pillow, blotting out my tears.  
I missed Bakura.


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing I heard was the sound of raised voices floating up the stairs. I rubbed his tired eyes wearily and pulled myself out of bed, wondering what was going on. I flung open the suitcase that held my clothes and pulled out a grey hoodie and a pair of dark blue jeans, pulling them on carelessly. I allowed himself a moment to stretch my sleep weary muscles back into awakeness before leaving the room and standing at the top of the stairs, fingers playing with my sleeve nervously. One voice I recognized as Yami, deep and powerful, but today filled with anger. I couldn't hear the other, nor see the front door from my position, so decided to venture downstairs to see what was happening. I got to about the eighth step and had a clear view of both speakers. My heart caught in my throat as two pairs of crimson eyes flashed up to meet my own. One pair belonged to Yami and were filled with anger and worry, whereas Bakura’s were.. dead and cold.  
“Ryou.” He said weakly, eyes lighting up slightly.  
Yami turned round to face Bakura again with balled fists.  
“I already told you Thief, you’re not welcome here.”  
Bakura glared up at Yami, unconcerned by their height difference and the current rage that I could sense coming from him.  
The tense silence was broken a minute later as the dining room door opened and Yugi’s wide eyed, concerned face popped out.  
“Yami? What’s going on?” He asked, hovering in the doorway, eyes widening further as he took in the situation.  
“Nothing, everything’s fine.” Yami answered in a cold tone I was sure he would never have normally used towards Yugi.  
Yugi’s forehead furrowed in hurt and he walked towards Yami nervously, “Yami?”  
“I’m dealing with it! Go upstairs Yugi!” Yami snapped, any self control gone.  
I felt my gut twinge unpleasantly as Yugi flinched away from Yami’s enraged form, lavender eyes filling with confused tears.  
“Yugi..” I muttered sympathetically as the smaller boy passed me on the stairs, reaching out to take his arm. Yugi merely flashed me a look that suggested it was my fault, yanked his arm free and continued up the stairs.  
When he had gone Yami raised one hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples exasperatedly.  
“Good one Pharaoh, you’ve upset the runt.” Bakura smirked, rolling his eyes sarcastically.  
I didn’t know what was wrong with Yami, but his usual patience seemed to have evaporated and he lunged towards Bakura, gripping him round the neck and pinning him to the door frame.  
“Don’t you dare talk about Yugi.” Yami growled, unaware of the passerby’s horrified looks and the fact that I had now come down the stairs completely and was watching the situation in horror. “I don’t want filth like you anywhere near him.”  
“I’m not here to see him.” Bakura spat, glaring at Yami with such force that anyone else would be cowering in fear.  
At this Yami gripped his neck tighter, Bakura’s hands coming up to try and loosen his grip even as his face turned slowly purple.  
“If you ever go anywhere near Ryou again I swear to Ra it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”  
Bakura let out a strangled chuckle at this, and turned his head to lock eyes with me, my eyes were wide and my mouth was open in fear as he shook.  
Yami didn’t allow the eye contact to linger long though, as he slammed Bakura against the door frame. Hard. The noise crashed through the house, tearing me out of my trance.  
“Yami!” I screamed, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him away from Bakura, whose lip was bleeding where he had bitten it. “What are you doing? You’re going to kill him!”  
Bakura’s face was scarily red now, his hands scrabbling at Yami’s hands pathetically. I was panicking, he really was going to kill him.  
“Yami!” I cried again, pulling with all my strength at the larger boy, tears streaming down my terrified face. Bakura’s eyes met mine and a sudden flash of inspiration met me.  
Bakura’s knife.  
I ducked under Yami’s arms and went into the Thief's pocket, pleased, for the first time, that Bakura carried a weapon. I flicked the blade of the knife open and, in one smooth movement wrapped an arm around Yami’s neck, holding the blade to the pale skin.  
“Let go.” I hissed, pressing the knife so a thin trickle of blood traveled down the skin.  
Yami growled, but finally released the Thief, who fell the the floor heavily, choking for breath on hands and knees. I immediately dropped down beside him, rubbing his back for lack of a better option.  
“So you choose Bakura?” The cold voice of Yami spoke up again.  
“What?” I spat.  
“Your friends or Bakura.” Yami’s eyes glinted wickedly, “decide.”  
“What did you do Yami?!” A horrified voice spoke from the bottom of the stairs and my eyes widened.  
“Yugi.” Yami gulped as Yugi lifted his hands to cover his mouth, shoulders shaking. “It’s not what it looks like!”  
“What did you do!” Yugi repeated, shouting this time.  
“Aibou-“ Yami began, but Yugi wasn’t listening, he flung himself into Yami, tiny fists pummeling his chest in a way that probably didn’t even hurt.  
I could only watch as Yugi’s punches became slower and weaker and eventually ceased altogether, the boy’s fists dropping to his sides as he cried pathetically into Yami’s chest.  
I felt my eyes fill with tears as I watched the most stable relationship I knew collapse around me. Yugi and Yami had always been so close, they were more like twins than a couple sometimes. They understood each others every thought and action. Until today Yami had probably never so much as scolded Yugi, let alone raised his voice to him. My head hung as I heard Yami’s whispered, fervent apologies to the sobbing Yugi be received by a choked “I hate you.”  
As much as both me and Yami knew Yugi didn’t mean it, it ripped right through both their chests and Yami gasped, his apologies replaced by silent tears that dripped down his regal face. My own tears still dripped. This was all my fault, I should never have dragged Yugi and Yami into it. If anything happened between them I would never forgive myself, they were the very definition of soul mates, I could not bear it if I was the one to separate them.  
A hand on my cheek startled me and I looked up to meet Bakura’s face, now back to it’s usual pale tone. He wiped my tears away with a gentle thumb and offered a gentle smile that made my breath hitch in his throat.  
Bakura stood a moment later, leaning against a wall shakily, before offering a cautious hand, which I took instantly, allowing Bakura to pull me up.  
“Let’s go.” Bakura said quietly, squeezing my hand and leading us out of the door.  
I took one glance back at Yami and Yugi, who were clinging to each other tightly, Yugi still shaking with sobs and Yami whispering soothingly into his ear, stroking his hair gently as tears ran silently down his own face.  
Bakura shut the door quietly, before turning to me.  
“They’ll be fine, Ry.” He reassured. “You okay?”  
I nodded blankly, barely hearing the question. I was scared. Scared of Yami, scared of Bakura, scared of himself.  
Bakura sighed, “No you’re not. Come here.”  
I looked up at Bakura, face full of gentle reassurance and arms spread slightly, inviting a hug. I walked towards him, resting my forhead on his shoulder but making no attempt to embrace him. Bakura sighed and wrapped his arms around my lightly shaking form, shushing me gently. We stood like that for a few minutes until my breathing had slowed and my face was dry.  
“I thought he was going to kill you.” My voice shook. “I was so scared.”  
Bakura tightened his grip, “I’m not going anywhere Ryou, not now, not ever.”  
I lifted his eyes up to meet Bakura’s, not a trace of a lie to be found anywhere.  
I noticed how Bakura was swallowing very frequently, and that his voice was raspy and painful. I lifted a pale hand to the Thief’s neck, fingers trailing gently across the red finger marks that Yami had left.  
“Ry.” Bakura’s tender tone distracted him from his marred neck and he looked up. “Come home.”  
My breath caught in my throat and I looked down. “Home.” I whispered.  
I never had a home before Bakura. My life was destroyed in the car crash that killed my mother and Amane, my little sister. It was never home after that, it was a place to exist, painful memories round every corner. Even when my father moved away for business and rented me an apartment to live in, it was never a home. There was no-one to welcome me back with a smile and a hot meal, nobody came to say goodnight and tuck me into bed. Nobody to comfort me when I hurt myself or cried myself to sleep. Nobody to grieve with.  
But when I met Bakura, when he finally moved in, my apartment became a home. A place of love and happiness, a place I wanted to return to everyday. He was always there, to comfort me when I was sad, to make me laugh, to watch TV with me. He was my home. No building could compare to how right I felt when I was with him.  
Bakura hooked a finger under his chin and raised his head so he was forced to meet his eyes. “Please Ry, I’ve missed you so much. Please, come home.”  
What could I do but nod?


	8. Chapter 8

It was strange to be back. Memories of what had passed were all around, pressing in on me suffocatingly. The crumpled blankets and pillows on the floor next to the sofa where Bakura had been made to sleep, the chipped paint on the wall where the picture I had thrown had missed it’s target. I couldn't help but feel queasy as I walked further through the apartment, eyes widening in confusion when I saw the broken bedroom window and the glass littering the floor.  
“Bakura, what happened to the window?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral, the last thing we needed was another argument.  
Bakura stood behind me and rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Marik kind of.. forced his way in.”  
I blinked. “What?”  
“Well I refused to let him in for ages so he got worried and kinda, broke in. Basically.”  
A grateful smile rose on my face and I mentally reminded myself to thank Marik for looking after Bakura the next time I saw him. My smile faded a moment later and I turned to face Bakura, who was shuffling around a piece of glass with his trainer.  
“How long is ages?”  
Bakura shrugged and feigned nonchalance, never looking away from his scuffed trainer. “About a week? Not that long.”  
“A week!” I exclaimed, eyes widened in surprise, I thought I had been the only one so deeply affected. “Why wouldn't you let him in?”  
Bakura’s eyes flashed around the room in seeming desperation, before coming to rest on the bed. Sheet half off, crumpled from nights of tossing and turning, only my pillow left in pristine condition, like he hadn't touched it once in the time we were apart.  
“Not much. Kept busy.” Bakura lied.  
I scoffed. “So, crying, refusing to eat, sleeping all day, not changing clothes.”  
Bakura’s eyes shot up to meet mine and I was surprised by the tears I saw forming in them. “How do you know?”  
I smiled sadly, “I wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine either.”  
Bakura sighed and stepped closer to me, wrapping me in his warm arms and resting his chin atop my head. “I’m sorry, Ry.”  
“It’s okay, Kura.” I almost sensed his eyes rolling and continued, “I mean, what you did was bad, no doubt about it. But...”  
“But what?” He asked gently, hand gently rubbing the base of my spine.  
“But I wasn't angry, I mean, I wanted to be, I really wanted to be. I wanted to hate you, I wanted to never want to see you again. But I couldn't be angry at you. I was more angry at myself.”  
“Ry, it wasn't your fault.” Bakura said, confusion clear in his voice.  
“I know. But I was angry because I still loved you.”  
I heard Bakura’s breath hitch and he gripped me tighter, from the vibrations in his chest I could tell he was crying.  
“I didn't’t want to. I wanted to hate you but I couldn't.” My voice cracked and warm tears trickled down my cheeks, “I still love you. I don’t think anything could change that.”  
Bakura released an audible sob and buried his head into my shoulder, holding me so tightly it almost hurt. “I love you too.”

When my eyes slowly opened in the morning light, it was with an ease that I hadn't felt in weeks. I actually wanted to wake up, I wanted to see Ryou, and today I knew that was possible. I yawned quietly and rolled over, hoping to watch him sleep for a while. My eyes shot open a moment later and I sat bolt upright. His side of the bed was empty, and as I ran my hands over it, I realized it was cold. His pillow was plump and crisp, as if he had never been there at all. I swallowed hard against the fear that rose in my throat and shakily climbed out of bed, walking through the apartment in the clothes I’d slept in, boxers and a t-shirt. The apartment was cold and I shivered under my thin clothes, but I continued to search each room, feeling sick rise in my throat as my search was fruitless.  
I soon reached the last door, to the kitchen, and pushed it open nervously, praying that Ryou was behind it. That this hadn't all been some hallucination brought about by fatigue and hunger.  
I almost collapsed with relief as I saw the slim form of Ryou stood in front of the window, looking down on the park and streets as he always did. His hair shone in the autumn light, white strands flowing over his shoulders in a smooth sheet. He’d always taken so much pride in his hair, using ridiculously expensive shampoos and conditioners and always carrying a comb. The familiar smell of peach tea reached my nose and I inhaled happily, memories of so many perfect mornings flooding back to me. It seemed strange, but the only time I could tolerate mornings was when Ryou was with me, he made them bearable.  
I walked towards him slowly, half expecting him to be some form of mirage, a cruel trick played on me by my eyes. But when I reached him he was still there and I gave a silent prayer of thanks to whatever God might be listening. I carefully wrapped my arms around his middle, smiling as he lent back into me, sharing his warmth.  
“Morning.” I said, as I had for so many days, and planned to for the rest of my time.  
“Morning Kura.” He replied, placing his empty mug onto the window sill and turning to face me, smile adorning his perfect face. He stretched up and gave me a quick kiss, crimson blush staining his cheeks soon after.  
“God I missed you.” I whispered to myself, but he must have heard it as his eyes sparkled and his smile widened.  
“I never want to leave again.” Ryou whispered back, “it hurt too much.”  
My heart twinged at this. It had hurt me too. Even if it was all my fault, I had made it worse by sticking round. I refused to leave the apartment despite Ryou’s angry pleas for me to leave, go get out, to go away and never come back. I just couldn't leave him. So, after the initial few hours wandering round Domino City sulking and scaring passerby’s, I had returned to the apartment. Ryou was curled up on the sofa, crying quietly and clutching a photo of us close to his chest.  
“Ryou.” I muttered, horrified at what I had caused.  
His head had snapped up, eyes glittering with tears and set into a scowl that I never want to see again.  
“I told you not to come back.” He spat, words dripping venom.  
“I told you I was sorry!” I replied, anger rising in my chest and threatening to burst out.  
“You’re sorry?” Ryou asked, standing up but making no move towards me, “You’re sorry? Well I guess everything’s alright then.”  
“Ryou you’re being irrational.” The moment I said it I realized how stupid it was.  
“Irrational? Irrational? You and that whore have ruined everything! We were just fine! We were happy! I was happy! Then you had to go and ruin it with that stupid slut. Couldn't you keep your fucking legs shut?”  
My mouth opened and closed silently, I had never seen Ryou this angry before, and to be honest, it was scary.  
“Look I’m sorry, it won’t happen again!”  
“It shouldn't have happened at all! You've ruined everything!” With a hysterical sob he launched the photo frame at me with full force. I just about ducked it and it hit the wall and smashed into pieces, the photo inside scratched and ruined.  
“What the fuck Ryou!” I shouted, now I was angry. If that had hit me it could have seriously injured me. To my growing alarm he picked up a vase next, flinging that in my direction, though his tears were distorting his vision and he missed by a long way.  
“Ryou stop it!” I advanced towards him, realizing he was searching for something else to throw. I grabbed his arms angrily, barely registering the pained whimper that left his mouth and the look of fear on his face. I threw him onto the sofa roughly. “Stop.”  
He didn't say anything and I released his arms, shooting him a concerned look with he returned with a disgusted glare, made less effective by the constant flow of tears.  
Now I think back, I honestly didn't know why I had stayed when he made it so clear he wanted me to leave. I hovered round the apartment for two days, accepting that I had to sleep on the couch, assuming that at some point he would forgive me.  
All my presence did was make it worse, he had to see me every moment of the day, constantly being reminded of what I had done, of how I had betrayed him. Even so, despite the fact that I knew nothing good could come out of me staying, I was surprised when he left.  
It was about midday, two days after ‘the incident’, and I walked into our bedroom to see him hastily flinging clothes into a suitcase, muttering under his breath and crying. He didn't seem to have stopped crying the last two days, and it scared me, had I broken him beyond repair?  
“Ryou?”  
His head snapped up, hands shaking as they hurriedly zipped the case, heaving it off the bed with difficulty. I let him walk past me into the hallway, watching him pull on his coat and shoes and unlock the door.  
“Where are you going?” I asked, panic beginning to set in, he was really leaving.  
“A friends.” He answered bluntly. “Don’t try to find me.”  
I blinked in surprise, the clear hate in his voice still made me feel sick each time he spoke to me. He heaved his suitcase out of the doorway and began wheeling it to the lifts.  
“Are you coming back?” I asked, still stood in the apartment, watching as he pressed the button for the lift.  
He looked back at me, and his face was so unhappy, so angry, such a mix of emotions that it nearly made me cry.  
“No. I’m not.” He replied coldly, before stepping into the lift and disappearing.  
My memories after that were fuzzy, a mixture of angry answer phone messages from Yami, concerned texts from Marik and frantic knocking on the door at every hour of the day. I remember tears, and exhaustion and hunger. But overwhelming it all was the emptiness. It was like I couldn't cope without him, like a part of me was missing and it hurt.  
I hugged him carefully, like he was something fragile, and whispered into his hair.  
“I’m never letting you go.”

It wasn't going to be easy, we both knew that. But the time we had spent apart had made me realize one thing. I couldn't live without him. He was the other half of me, and without him, I was incomplete.  
I didn't know how long it would take him to fully trust me again, or even if he ever would. I didn't know what the future held for me, but with him, it seemed like it didn't matter.  
As long as he was in my future, nothing else mattered.  
I had got him back, and I was never letting go again.


End file.
